


of course he came (and stayed)

by harryandthestars



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Confessions, Episode 3x11, Episode Related, First Kiss, Grief, Hope, I love them so much, M/M, Sad, Tyrus - Freeform, i can't with this show holy shit, i love u so much terri, literally crying, they're so amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 19:42:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17752262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryandthestars/pseuds/harryandthestars
Summary: Nothing is normal with the Goodmans. Cyrus’ first kiss with T.J. is not excluded from this picture.





	of course he came (and stayed)

**Author's Note:**

> unedited. its literally 12:30 am rn but i just had to post this. the episode was so fucking good holy shit. this show is making history and im so proud. (:

  
Cyrus, to say the least, was exhausted. The past couple of weeks had been hellish, with his Bubbe gone and everything; sleep had brought nothing but more tears, so he’d avoided that route. But now, standing in the foyer and saying goodbye whilst consoling the suddenly weeping guests, it was impossible to stifle the continuous yawns.

His Aunt Ruthie, who was helping Cyrus in the demanding task, shot him a glare. He stood up straighter and rubbed his eyes. The day itself had been tiring too, and decidedly eventful. So it shouldn’t have been surprising to Cyrus that T.J. Kippen snuck up from behind.

Of course he jumped, though, would he really be Cyrus if he didn’t? He knew T.J. was smiling even before he turned around; Cyrus didn’t even have it in him to be mock angry. It was nearing nine, the chilly night air cutting through him from the open door. Buffy, Andi, and Jonah had all left. But not T.J., citing his parents gone to some party as an excuse, but Cyrus knew why he stayed. Or at least, he thought he did.

T.J. was extremely kind. He’d always been, Cyrus knew, and it was proven from the way he was always there for him. At some points, his niceness was hidden under that mask of his, but Cyrus was there to remove it. It was the least he could do.

“Thanks for staying,” Cyrus muttered to T.J. as an overdramatic sobbing distant relative embraced him. Oh, Bubbe had hated this woman (“her _latkes_ taste like McDonald’s hashbrowns, dear”). He tried to hide his grin, making it seem like a grimace, and T.J., mistaking this for grief, quickly rubbed Cyrus’ back. The familiar electricity came back in full force, not even dulled a bit from the exhaustion or the overbearing sadness.

“Of course,” T.J. responded simply, and he continued to rub his back the entire time, until the very last guest was gone.

Aunt Ruthie quickly redirected her attention to the boys. “You, _challah_ child, when are you going home?”

T.J. Kippen—the T.J. Kippen—actually flushed pink at this, and Cyrus decided he’d never seen anything cuter. But when Aunt Ruthie smiled, it was safe to assume that despite the fact T.J. had screwed up with the bread, she was not the only Goodman who harbored a soft corner for him. She smiled gently and touched his cheek briefly.

“Thank you for staying for my Cyrus,” she said, tears suddenly brimming in her eyes. “It means a lot to all of us. Cyrus, you walk him out, or—” Aunt Ruthie glanced at the clock, still wiping away the tears.

“It’s late, you know. Why don’t you spend the night?”

“During the shiva?” T.J. said, shocked. Cyrus was surprised at this, too, but his aunt simply shrugged in response.

“Up to you, boys.” She kissed Cyrus, even hugged T.J., and walked upstairs. Still stunned, he turned to T.J.

“Well,” he said slowly, “you’ve brought out a whole new side to her.”

“I thought she was going to kick me out after that whole _challah_ fiasco,” T.J. admitted sheepishly. “I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t have,” Cyrus said, picking up a discarded handkerchief on the floor. “She knows how much you mean to me.”

The simple words shouldn’t have come with so much embarrassment, but they did upon seeing the other boy’s face. He hastily continued to clean the littered living room, ignoring the fact T.J. started to assist him without a word.

“I mean, as a friend, of course,” Cyrus said, several moments later. He finally faced those green eyes, which were still staring at him intently. Suddenly, he was held in T.J.’s vicelike grip on his shoulders, and Cyrus was too shocked to form coherent thoughts.

“Cyrus,” he said softly. “You’re exhausted. Go to sleep.”

“What?” Cyrus said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Am I talking that much gibberish?”

T.J. laughed, releasing him. “No. But literally, Underdog, you should see the circles underneath your eyes. I can help you clear this out. And then I want you to go upstairs and sleep.”

“But how about you?”

“I’ll go, don’t worry. My house isn’t too far, and I’m sure my parents will be expecting me soon.”

_No_ , was his initial response, his mind finally working again. _Don’t go. Stay._ But that would be asking for too much, it would always be asking for too much. He’d come for the whole day, and that was how it would stay. This was T.J., for God’s sake, his loyal friend, nothing more. It would always be that way, and he couldn’t risk losing the golden bond that had created between them, all because of his ignorant one-sided feelings.

They worked in silence for a while. T.J.’s hair was coming out of its gel-overload, suddenly messy and so beautiful. Hair. Cyrus was thinking messy hair was beautiful. He must’ve been really tired, but then again, this was T.J. Everything about him was unfairly beautiful.

“I think your family adores you, by the way,” T.J. voiced aloud, causing Cyrus to come out of his messy-haired stupor.

“What? Oh. Not really.” He yawned.

“No, literally, one of your other aunts could not stop doting about how smart you are, and how much your Bubbe valued your ability to connect with anyone. How truthful you are. Really, I heard her say you were her favorite grandchild. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Cyrus shook his head in mock disagreement, but he turned away again. His lip quivered. God, this was stupid, this was all so stupid. He polished the same plate at least eight times until T.J. snatched it away and turned him around in one go.

“I think it’s all done, Cy, you should—” He stopped, searching his face. “Cyrus?”

He couldn’t even talk. Anything he’d say would make the dam burst. It was begging to come out of him, and he wished T.J. would leave all of a sudden, to go away and never return even though he’d ache for his arrival, but he would get over it as he would get over the loss of his Bubbe—

And then it started, slowly but strongly, the emotion pouring out of him. Cyrus couldn’t stop it. If he was being logical, he’d think about how it was natural. But it didn’t feel that way, at least it didn’t until

T.J. wrapped his arms around him, burying Cyrus’ head in his chest. Now, this felt natural—but it shouldn’t. He wanted to break away, but the fatigue was overwhelming. In fact, it was the tiredness that caused the crying to cease.

As Cyrus hiccuped from the sobs, T.J. said nothing. He realized he owed him the truth, just as much as Jonah and his dearly departed grandmother did.

“I don’t deserve to be,” he whispered, Cyrus’ words coming out even more inaudible because it was muffled by T.J.’s chest.  
“What?” he responded, and Cyrus knew he was frowning even before he broke away from the hug.

“I don’t—didn’t—” Cyrus cringed, but continued, taking a shaky breath. “I didn’t deserve to be her favorite grandchild.”

“Yes, you do,” T.J. argued, sounding very T.J.-like. The fearless athlete, his—well, not his, never his—unabashed basketball captain. So strong and blunt. Cyrus had helped him come to terms with his learning disability. Maybe he could help him with this.

“I didn’t tell her...I didn’t tell her I was gay.”

Somehow, this was ten times harder than telling Jonah, even though he was the boy that made him realize his sexuality. But his feelings for Jonah were in the past. He could see nothing but T.J. in the present and the future, and that scared him. He was sure it would scare him too, if he ever found out.

Silence. Until T.J. stepped away, away from Cyrus. The sadness that followed from that couldn’t even cause tears. It was over. It was all over.

“T.J., I—”

“You’re...gay?” He didn’t say it like it was an insult. In fact, T.J. sounded like a mildly curious child asking about ocean tides. It would be hard for him to come to terms with this, Cyrus assumed. Perhaps he never would. Maybe Bubbe Rose would’ve done the same, all her respect for him gone. Cyrus shuddered.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

T.J. stood there, still in apparent shock. Cyrus closed his eyes and then said, “You should go, T.J. I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you came—”

“Wait. Wait, why are you apologizing?”

Cyrus looked at him in bewilderment and swallowed. “Uh. I mean, if you’re not okay with me being, well, gay, I’m sorry.”

T.J. rubbed his forehead with his hands. “Cyrus, why would you think that?”

Now he was really confused. “You stepped away. And you looked like you just saw a ghost. Is Bubbe Rose around?” His half-hearted attempt at humor made him want to throw up. “No, okay, you know what, I—I can’t do this right now. T.J., thank you so much, again.”

“Cyrus.” He stepped closer, closer than they’d ever been. “Cyrus, I’m sorry if you think I’m not okay with it. I am, I swear I am. I’m just shocked.”

“Really? Here I was, thinking I was this obvious gay disaster.”

T.J. shook his head. Those green eyes were locked with his again, and Cyrus felt the eye contact bring him the familiar warmth. He really knew how to pick them. First Jonah Beck, unattainable Jonah Beck, or so it had seemed—he, too, was not a prized trophy ill at ease. He had his own problems, Jonah. They all did. And here was the immediate problem Cyrus was facing: he was in love with T.J. Kippen, a boy that would never feel the same way, and all he wanted more in the world was to be kissed by him at 9:34 PM with the not-quite dried tears still on his cheek, yet the wish would never come true, because they never did—

And then the softest lips were on his own. It felt sinless, so pure and gentle that Cyrus let his mind shut off once again, let himself succumb to this glorious unknown. He grasped the sides of T.J.’s face, or maybe he grasped his. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that T.J. was there, and he was there, and their lips were there, and they were connected.

It felt like hours, days, years, eons. And when they broke apart, the first thought that came racing back was his Bubbe’s favorite quote by Yochanan Tversky. She used to sing it, kind of. _“There can be lunacy without love, but is there any great love without a little lunacy?”_

And Cyrus felt like a lunatic indeed, with a dish towel in his hand and his crush right in front of him, in the kitchen where they were serving mourning guests earlier. They had kissed, they had really kissed. Bubbe Rose had once told him that love brought unpredictability. For Cyrus, it’d brought this.   
Then he started laughing. And once he started, he couldn’t stop.

T.J. probably thought he was a psychopath, but he joined in midway anyway, until the laughter consumed them both, panting and holding onto each other’s elbows.

“I think—I think I’m going to sleep. For real.”

The taller boy nodded, and suddenly kissed Cyrus’ forehead. He closed his eyes at the tender gesture. What was going on?

“T.J., did you really want to—I mean—”

“Oh, Underdog—Cyrus, I—you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

He nodded. Nothing was really registering. But this did, as he was walking to go upstairs, once and for all:

“Cyrus. She would’ve loved you, either way. And she would’ve been proud of you.”

As if to signify his point, a breeze floated in through the window. It filled Cyrus with this unnatural surge of hope, and he realized that there really was a point of waking up tomorrow. T.J. was standing right next to the picture of Bubbe and him as a baby, their whole family surrounding the cooing Cyrus. And he glanced down to his phone; the wallpaper was a picture with Andi, Buffy, and Jonah.

“She’s always going to be here for you. And so am I.”

And Cyrus believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading. ik theres prob mistakes which i'll fix later! i love tyrus sm jesus christ


End file.
